


A bard's blade

by ErikTheShed



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Inspired by The Witcher, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikTheShed/pseuds/ErikTheShed
Summary: This has been an idea for a long time and I've been fiddling with it while at work often. Finally sat down and got it down on paper (so to speak).Still playing around with 1st person writing and I am enjoying that a lot and hopefully you all will enjoy the way I write in this style.Setting here is it's years after the books, even after the games (though games are non-canon) Dandelion/Jaskier is in his 50s but still he is forever Dandelion and gets himself into some trouble. Geralt is not there to save him since they have not crossed paths for a while.Hope you all enjoy!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	A bard's blade

“How long has it been now Geralt, it feels like it’s been an age, and far too often I feel old. Geralt? Do you hear me?” I said and looked over to the white haired witcher. He was looking off into the far distance and not at me at all. “Hey, I’m talking to you damn it.” still he did not turn his head.  
I scoffed and crossed my arms and my legs, but every joint hurt from the simple motion. This blasted body needs to start keeping up with me again or I don’t know what I’ll do, I’m not that old after all. Suddenly I felt a strike to my head, but I couldn’t see where it came from. “Geralt? What’s happening?” I asked the dreaming witcher, but when he turned his head I did not see what I expected.  
All witchers, when they go through their mutations, gain these cat-like eyes that let’s them control their pupils, allowing them to see in the dark. It can look quite frightening, slitted pupils like a cat or even a serpent, but I knew his face well and those eyes had long past become the sign of my trusted friend, my brother, a man I once said I loved.  
His eyes were missing, just two pitch dark globes sat under his brows.  
“Dandelion…” Geralt’s voice sounded like he had tried to chug gravel. Again I felt a strike to my face on the same spot as if someone just struck me with an open palm.  
I waved my arms frantically and tried my best to find the assailant but there was no one there. “Geralt, we’re under attack!”  
“Dandelion!” Geralt yelled at me and another smack burnt my face.  
Everything goes completely silent, Geralt got and faced me fully and a sad smile shows on his blinded face “Wake up, old friend.” 

“Wake up Dandelion!” shouted a female voice and after I blinked my eyes a few times the real world came into view at last. I was not out on the road with Geralt, of course I wasn’t and I haven’t been for an age now.  
Looking up at the shouting woman I perked a brow and offered her one of my most charming of smiles “Dear Lydia, good morning to you. What is with all the fuss?” I asked her, trying to take in the situation around me.  
There were clothes thrown on the floor and around the immediate furniture, we had both been rather enthusiastic the previous night after I had been playing one of my ballads at the local tavern. You think my name was grand back when I was truly traveling with the witcher? Well now I am quite the legend myself, the bard Dandelion whom traveled with the White Wolf through hell and back. Do I exaggerate the tales once in a while for my own benefit? Well of course, who wouldn’t? But I digress…  
“Master Dandelion, sir, remember when I told you I lived alone?” Lydia said with an innocent smile, I could feel the groan coming from deep within my chest as I rolled my eyes and sat up. “And let me guess,” I continued for her “Your darling husband, brothers, father or what have you is now approaching home and you want me to skedaddle before you are called a trollop and tossed out?” I might have been too blunt, she looked about ready to throw a pot at me with the expression she had on her face then.  
I got out of bed and got dressed in a flash, my prized, and legendary, lute strapped to my back and I headed for the door where I saw a man turning from his horse about to face me directly so I spun on my heel and slammed the door shut. “By the gods I hope there is a back door.” I looked at Lydia pleading and she pointed “Through the kitchen!” she answered my prayer.  
Darting for the kitchen and the door I felt her grab my tunic and stop me, turned me around and kissed me goodbye. “Will I see you again master bard?” she asked in a husky whisper. I smiled at the girl, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and whispered back gently “Of course my dear Lydia, our night together is one I will never forget, and your beauty will haunt my dreams though they will never do justice for the real thing.” I kissed her cheek and vanished just as I heard a rough voice announcing he was home.  
Walking down the street I started thinking a bit about the prior night. Was it Lydia or Lisa? I shrugged off the thought, I’m better with faces than names, even more so with everything below the neck.  
Don’t look at me like that, it’s a bard’s life to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh and there is no shame in that.

It took a while four hours before I was found at the inn, enjoying some silence, a steep drink to chase away the thoughts of days past, nightmares and a dark spiral.  
“Oi! You’re that bard aren’t you?” a rough voice said. I turned to peek over my shoulder and groaned internally before putting on a jaunty smile and spun around fully.  
“Master Dandelion, at your service gentlemen. What can I do for you?” what can I say, I am a cheery person when around people.  
“You fucked my wife you creeten!” the man shouted so the entire inn could hear it. Guess Lydia, or was it Lisa? ….Layla? Doesn’t matter. The woman had told on me and now for some odd reason I was the one who got in trouble. She was in on it just as much as me, more so than me since she lied about her being single.  
“Gentlemen, I’m sure this is all some misunderstanding.” I tried to be reasonable.  
“NO!” he shouted at me “You and me, outside, NOW! Bring your sword you little fiddler!” I think he was trying to say he challenged me to a duel. Not something that happened often, usually folk like him would just throw a punch and start a full scale brawl, but swords kill faster than a fist does so I’m not sure which I’d prefer.  
“If you insist.” I replied and tightened my best.  
Outside the sun was still shining bright and hanging high on the sky, and as I looked over to the enraged man, red as a tomato, I couldn’t help but remember all the other times I had gotten into trouble like this, when I was a younger man. These days there were times when my joints ache a bit, my glorious mane had streaks of silver in it and the crows feet on my face had no remedy. Twenty odd years, can it have been that long?  
“For the honour of my wife and myself, I challenge you to a duel with swords!” shouted the angry one, some of his friends cheering him on from the looks of it.  
“Sir, I urge you to reconsider, it is simply a misunderstanding I assure you.” once again I try to make him see reason, that always works does it not?  
“I did not take anyone’s wife to bed.” as of late at least, knowingly.  
“Shut your mouth whoreson! Draw your sword!” he shouted back at me and with a heavy sigh, what else could I do.  
My lute was secured by the barkeep, a man I’d come to know over the years of traveling through this town and he knew the lute and myself as friends. I trusted him to keep my darling lute safe.  
The angry man drew his sword and took a few practise swings with it, his furious eyes never leaving me. I grabbed the hilt of my own sword, one I had come to bring with me almost as religiously as my prized lute.  
My sword was slim and light, almost a rapier but had a bit more ‘meat’ on it so to speak. It had been far too many times down the road of causing trouble where I found myself in danger and with no Geralt of Rivia to get me out of it, so I took up the sword to learn to defend myself to some degree at least.  
Turns out I had a slight talent for it. Guess my years of travels and regular...exercises had given me a body to work with. Quick and precise is what a stray teacher had told me once and so I decided to spend some coin and have myself a sword forged. I think Ciri would have approved of it, she might be able to wield it well too as I fashioned it similar to one of the witcher swords but for a more delicate touch. After years of seeing Geralt in his element I might have picked up a thing or two as well, though I am no witcher at all, but some of their steps had stuck with me and now I could actually defend myself against the untrained and even some soldiers I had had the displeasure of sparring with. Even having soldiers and professional swordsmen compliment my skill surely boosted my confidence with the sword.  
In my moment of nostalgia the man leaped at me, sword first and I noticed it just in time to sidestep and spin away from him. My sword slashed outward during the evasion and gave the man a cut but only through his tunic which was thick leather.  
“I still highly recommend we stop this foolishness.” I said but it landed on deaf ears as I expected.  
We tussled for a little while but I came out victorious. Two minor cuts had gotten me but nothing deep. The accuser however had suffered several deep cuts, none life threatening if he got help soon but it had taken all his energy away with the loss of blood and exhaustion from swinging his sword around in anger.  
I sheathed my sword, bowed slightly to the man and said “I am the victor here, sir, but I wish not to have your life this day. Go home.” I then turned back to the tavern to retrieve my lute.

On to the next village I guess, perhaps I should swing by Vengeberg next, see if I can catch Yennefer and hopefully Geralt. I so dearly wished to see him, Yennefer too, she had become a bit of a friend as well I guess. She saved my life a few times after all and she did say I was one to her for all I had done for Geralt over the years.  
I smiled, getting lost once more in days past. It was becoming a bad habit of mine and one I should rid myself of. Just about any low life scoundrel could sneak up on me in the middle of my daydreams and snag all I hold on my personage.  
I shook my head and looked ahead onto the road on which my horse trotted confidently on. The road was long and I couldn’t help but feel despair at the dark loneliness that was ahead of me, like a dark creature weighing me down, clinging to my shoulders and wanting to drive me into the ground and never let me get back up.  
It was times like these I felt most like an old man, that dark passenger of mine aged me tenfold and sapped all life from me.  
Cheer up Dandelion! You’re the most famous bard on the continent, you want for nothing! Women and wine, coin and feasts, all you can endulge of all four for as long as you have yet to live!  
I tried hard to cheer myself up like that but it rarely held any strength, the words like puffs of smoke from a flame about to flicker out.  
I grabbed a book from my saddle bag, “Half a century of poetry”, my memoirs. I started writing this when me and the witcher headed out to find Ciri a long time ago. It was there we met with some of our most trusted friends.  
It wouldn’t be too many more decades before I could publish this book, I remember Geralt giving me lip about it since I hadn’t been a poet for more than a half of what the title claims, but as I told him then, I’d rather get the memories down now before I’m a withered old man.  
Oh Geralt, my old friend, where are you now? What have become of you? Are you even alive or has some dark creature finally made you face your end?  
I felt a trickle down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, it’s been twenty years, I am not going to sit here and wallow and cry in depression.  
But I know I will…

I hadn’t gotten far from the town, but the sun was setting slowly. I had hoped I’d get to the next town before it got completely dark but if I didn’t pick up the pace I’d have to make camp somewhere. Sleeping on the ground was hell on my back though, I’d rather like to avoid it if I could.  
“Well, look who it is.” said a voice and I heard two other voices chuckling.  
“Hello? Who’s there?” I asked into the slowly growing dark. “Who? Well you should know shouldn’t you? I’m the brother of the man you murdered in town. I heard it all from my sister in law. You fucking scum murdered my brother and then raped his wife. How low of a cesspit did you crawl out of you shit!”  
Ok, this was just wrong in every way possible.  
“I have NOT murdered anyone, nor have I ever in my life taken a woman by force! How dare you accuse me of such a vile act? You have been lied to.” Who could have spun such a wild tale? Did Lydia take an easy way out of her troubles? And what of her husband, I had not killed him, simply wounded him.  
“Shut up you human pig! You will die tonight and I will give your head to my sister in law as compensation for her lost husband, and I will take that lute of yours. I’m sure it’ll catch a good price somewhere.” the man snarled but there was little anger in him, he must not have liked his brother much. Most likely this man looks for any opportunity for a fight, I should try and get out of this mess but with that sort of man there is little chance of talking my way out of it, and he has friends with him whom look just as honourless as he.  
“Sir, I have not, put your brother to his death. These are fabrications, that is all they are. But don’t you dare even touch my lute or I will have words. Harsh words.” I snarled right back at him. Usually I’d be shying away from a fight, but some part of me wanted this fight, but why? Am I suicidal or perhaps I’ve just finally gone mad. Gods help me I should just spur on my horse and run away, but I caught a glimpse of a crossbow, they will shoot my horse the second I’m out of sword range.  
His friends are circling me, making sure I can’t escape and looking down right hungry for a fight or perhaps to see my blood spill on the dirt road.  
Moonlight always made blood look like black oil on the ground, strange thing to remember at a time like that.  
I slid from my horses saddle and drew my sword, two of them had swords and one with a crossbow. I was not surviving this night without immense luck, perhaps they had been drinking and I could take them on, the crossbowman could miss and it would take a minute to reload if he wasn’t used to the device.  
“We do not have to do this, gentlemen.” I tried, but has that line ever worked?  
There was no smell of alcohol on their breaths as they all laughed at me and my dainty looking sword, I felt small but damn it I did not want to die, not until I saw Geralt at least once more, then I could die. I’d join him on one last adventure or so help me!  
“Have at you!” I shouted with more vigor than I’d had for the past decade and stepped in fast and sharp at the closest man, one of the brother’s friends, and slashed him across his forearm in an attempt to disarm him early on but he was wearing steel on his forearms. Damn are my eyes for not noticing sooner, they are clearly glinting in the moonlight now.  
I heard a twang, dropping my entire weight like a sack of potatoes and pushed myself to roll backwards I heard a whistling almost knick my ear as the crossbow bolt missed me and hit the one I had tried to disarm in his gut. It would have hit me in the middle of my back, possibly shattered my spine.  
I felt the rush of combat, life and death situation, I sprang to my feet and dashed for the one with the crossbow but got blocked by the brother who took a wide swing with his bastard sword. My sword met it and redirected it to the side and made it dig into the dirt road before I swept his feet from under him with my own leg and pressed myself back up like a spring.  
My knee popped and I almost toppled completely but I found my strength as a flash memory of Geralt having his thigh bone shattered once and still fighting while it was still healing. One more time, one more trip Geralt, you’ll see.  
Spinning around to the man with a bolt in his gut I kicked the tip of the bolt deeper into his gut and making him fall to the ground with a thud, spinning again and moving fast I saw the crossbow being reloaded and with the distance between us I wouldn’t make it to him.  
I did the only thing I could think of, I threw my sword at him trying to at the very least delay his reloading, wishfully hoping it would pierce him and kill him on the spot and shoot the last remaining man, but was I ever that lucky?  
The sword spun in the air towards him but with a klang it was swept away mid air by the brother who’d gotten back on his feet.  
“Now you die!” he shouted at me and the crossbow pointed at me and he pulled the trigger.  
I felt my eyes close and could already feel the shock and impact of the bolt hitting my chest, but instead there was a sharp metallic klink.  
“Why is it that every time I find you you are being run down by someone who’s wife you plowed?” a familiar voice spoke.  
My eyes opened and I saw long hair white as snow tied behind a tall man’s head, I fell to my knees, which popped again, and chuckled “Well you know me, always getting into trouble.” my words were half sobs and half laughing.  
“Last chance to leave guys.” Geralt of Rivia said to the two remaining men. His eyes were golden and gleaming in the darkness like an animal’s reflecting ones.  
“Fuck you!” they said almost in unison and charged the witcher, men have made worse choices. If you ever get a choice to fight a witcher or not, definitely do not fight one. They are stronger and faster than any human will ever be.  
He made quick work of the two remaining men and walked over to me.  
“Dandelion, you got old.” he reached down a hand to me and I grasped it and let him haul me to my feet.  
“And you look about the same. It’s not fair you know.” I said, smiling and didn’t let go of his hand, sliding my hand up to grasp his upper arm where firm muscle was hiding under his jacket.  
“Geralt…” I whispered, I didn’t quite know the words I wanted out of my mouth yet.  
“I caught some of your swordplay.” He said “I’m impressed, I never thought you’d take up a sword and from the looks of it you are not terrible with it either. Perhaps I could show you a thing or two sometime.”  
His voice was anything but friendly but to me it was just Geralt, my long time old friend, at last I had found him, or he had found me.  
“I...I’d like that Geralt. It’s good to see you again my friend.” I said, barely able to contain myself as I felt trickling down both my cheeks despite smiling wider than I had for years.  
His arms went around me and held me tight. I hugged him back almost as tight, thought the rush of combat and shock of seeing him again had run me down a bit.  
I laughed into his shoulder while my tears ran hot down my cheeks and on to his jacket.  
“I missed you, you damn fool.”  
“Missed you too Dandelion.” he replied.  
I leaned back and looked at him, wiping my eyes and even seeing his own mutated eyes having reddened a little.  
“What took you so long?” I asked him and pushed at his shoulder, still with a wide smile on my face. “What took me so long? Do you have any idea how hard it is to track you down? Running to every corner of the continent at the behest of any maiden you get a letter from? You are harder to track down than Ciri was all those years ago you fool of a bard.” he chuckled and placed his hand on my shoulder. It felt reassuring, strong.  
“I see, well you found me, is there something going on?” I asked, hoping everyone were still alright.  
“Nothing’s going on Dandelion, don’t worry. I just wanted to find you and ask if you wouldn’t mind coming with me again.” Geralt spoke, and then he looked a little uncomfortable as he uttered in a lowered voice “I miss your company on the road.”  
What else could I do but hug him again and laugh heartily “Of course I’ll join you for another adventure Geralt. I wish for nothing more.”  
I had been reunited with my long lost friend, Geralt and I were back together and on the road to new stories, new ballads for me to compose of our travels and the people we met.  
Finally, I was home again.


End file.
